That Particular Yharnam Madness
by windsabove
Summary: Paul and Petra L'med seek the city of Yharnam in hopes of curing their stubborn ailments. What the siblings find, however, are secrets not even the darkest corners can hide, and a hunt that dares to reveal them. After all, no one escapes the Hunt without acquiring a madness of their own.


_Oh yes...Paleblood…_

 _Well, you've come to the right place. Yharnam is the home of blood ministration. You need only unravel its mystery._

 _But, where are outsiders like yourselves to begin? Easy, with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own…_

 _But first, you'll need contracts…_

 _Good. All signed and sealed. Now, let's begin the transfusions. Oh, don't you worry..._

 _Whatever happens...You may think it all a mere bad dream…_

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

A dim room, comprised of the darkest wooden floors she had ever seen, came into focus. Petra shot up, head immediately protesting the sudden motion. She rubbed her temples for a moment, then glanced down.

A medical table...blood...wolves...strange little creatures…

An audible gasp left her mouth. Only now was all of the blood on the surface beneath her beginning to shine. She bit back her nausea, looking over at the table next to her. A wave of relief crashed over her. There was Paul, as peaceful and quiet as when they arrived seeking a cure-no, perhaps just a treatment for their ailing town, for themselves. Yes, that's what they came to Yharnam for, the strange city that outsiders had nothing but disturbing and confusing things to say about. But Paul rested, slumbering like he was buried in his own bed at home. Petra reached over and tapped his shoulder gently, her dark red braid falling out of her hood.

"Paul," she whispered. "Paul, wake up."

He half-heartedly waved her away. " 'nother moment."

"Paul, please get up."

His light blue eyes slowly blinked open, mouth scrunching up all the while. "Just a minute, Petra. We're meant to rest, remember?"

"I don't want to rest in this clinic," she hurriedly replied. "We should leave."

He turned away from her, but didn't answer. Petra sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the table and inspecting her arm. The bandage seemed too thin to be used for such a practice. Or perhaps she had lost that much blood in the process. She frowned at the thought, but was immediately startled out of them by Paul's sudden wakeful state announced by the clatter of the table beneath him..

"Petra," he breathed, eyes wide with shock, "did...did you happen to see a-"

"Wolf?" she supplied.

"Covered in blood?"

"Yes."

"And tiny creatures with strange faces?"

"The very same."

He paused, then nodded. "You're right. We should leave. Whatever this place is, it seems we're not welcome."

She slipped off of the table. "Well, we _are_ in Yharnam, after all. You know what the townsfolk always said about this place."

"Not particularly," he responded, brushing dirt off of his sleeve. "I was never home during the day."

"Right." Petra glanced down at the floor for a moment, then back at her brother. "Word is they drink more blood than alcohol. Can you imagine? Not to mention this odd setup for transfusions-"

" _Ministrations_ , Petra."

She sighed. "Must we argue semantics?"

"If you're going to insult a town, at least use their terminology."

"...Fair enough." She took a quick inventory of their surroundings. "All the same, we should move along before someone finds us like this."

"I'll have to agree with you." Paul tugged at his shirt sleeve. "I don't want to be caught dead _or_ alive in these clothes. Honestly, why did you drag me to that awful seamstress? We could have gone to a neighboring town instead."

"Paul, she is a family friend."

"Not a good one."

Petra folded her arms. "We're in a filthy clinic covered with _blood_ , and _this_ is what you choose to be most disturbed by?"

"Yes. Now, are we going to leave or do you wish to argue with me about clothes all day?"

"Alright," she said, exasperated as she turned on her heel. "On we go."

The siblings walked forward, sidestepping a few tables and coming to an ordinary set of wooden doors with glass windows. Petra pushed them open, cringing at the creaks coming from the hinges. Ahead of them awaited a set of wooden stairs that seemed just as old as the rest of the clinic.

"Petra, wait."

She turned her head. Paul was standing by a chair. "What is it?"

"There's a note." He picked it up carefully. "'Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt.'" After a moment, he set it down. "Strange thing to leave in a clinic, don't you think?"

"A little. Then again, if the rumors are true, this is quite the strange place."

They descended the stairs in silence, save for the sound of their footsteps. The rooms in front of them looked almost the same as the one they just left, complete with more medical tables, shelves full of books, and glasses of all shapes and sizes. Petra grabbed Paul's sleeve when he tried to take another step forward.

"Ah, now you see why these clothes are so unfitting?"

"Shh." She took a moment to listen. A thrashing sound in the next room caught her attention. "There's something ahead of us. I...I don't think it's human."

Paul slipped out of his sister's grasp. "Well, no better way to find out than to-"

He stopped immediately in the archway. Had it not been for his breathing, Petra would have sworn he had died then and there. She peeked around his left shoulder and silenced a gasp that was all too eager to call attention to them.

There, right near their exit, was a large black wolf dining on a bloodied corpse. A shiver trickled down Petra's spine and spread through the rest of her body. She had to make a plan. There had to be a way around this creature without completely alerting it to their existence. She started cycling through ideas just in time for Paul to walk towards the wolf.

The wolf turned immediately, red eyes glaring directly at her brother. Petra seized up, her hand gripping the frame of the archway. Paul, however, seemed mildly unfazed, and went ahead to kick the wolf in the face before it had a chance to take a bite out of his leg. It reeled, but continued to go after Paul regardless. He proceeded to repeatedly smack it.

"Um-" He avoided a sharp swipe. "A little assistance, please!"

Petra shook herself out of her stupor and dashed over, landing a swift punch to the creature's abdomen. The hit staggered the beast briefly. She hopped to the side, narrowly avoiding claws that were bound for her face. For a moment, she stopped, staring at the thing after another kick. Was she always this nimble? Memories were blurry, perhaps a side effect of the transfusion. She blinked and backed away slowly. Her back bumped against a wall after a few short steps. The beast was closing in, blood-coated teeth forming a menacing snarl.

"Paul?" She glanced up.

Empty space was the last thing she saw before the beast's teeth sank into her neck.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Cold stone pressed against Petra's cheek as she regained consciousness. She blinked, hands extending in front of her and pushing her into a sitting position. What she awoke to see, however, was the complete opposite of what she expected.

The sight before her was beautiful in the quaintest sense of the word. A light mist hovered over the cobblestone path and the stairs leading up to the house on top of the hill. The house itself was structured less like a house and more like a small chapel, tiny spires flanking the sides and a small, half-oval window residing above the open double doors at the top of the stairs. It was surrounded by sprawling trees, most of which had no foliage whatsoever. Still, she found a sort of tranquility in the sleeping branches, their spindly forms casting crawling shadows upon the earth.

Flowers covered the majority of the area, with a few sets of gravestones lining both paths to the house. Petra leaned to her left for a better look. Lilies. No, asphodels. Wherever she was, it had to be some sort of final resting place. She highly doubted she survived the bite from-

"Oh, hello Petra."

She yelped and whipped her head around, both anger and relief rushing to her senses at the sight of her brother. Paul looked as alive as ever, barely a scratch on him apart from the bandages on his arm. His chin-length hair, nearly the same shade of red as hers, poked slightly out of the spaces in his hood. From her angle, it looked a bit mussed, but he sat calmly, hands resting behind him on the path.

"Paul! How did you-" She stopped, eyes lowering into a glare. "Where did you go?"

"We were hardly doing a thing to that wolf, so I left. Did you die, as well?"

"Yes, because _you left me to the wolf!_ "

He threw his hands up in front of him. "I thought for certain you would follow!"

"And _I_ thought for certain we were fending off that beast _together_!"

"How was I to know you wouldn't follow?"

"You could have said something!"

"I panicked!"

Petra let out an exasperated growl, then set her hands on her legs, clutching the fabric of her trousers. "Was it worth it, running off like that?"

"Well…" He sat up straight. "I found a ladder."

"...I suppose that's something." She reached up and rubbed the skin of her neck. Her eyes widened. "Are you hurting anywhere?"

Paul patted his chest. "No," he replied, looking as confused as she felt. "I thought I would be, considering the nasty slash those Yharnamites gave me. Unless we've gone into the afterlife."

"But I feel alive," she insisted, "and if I'm alive, I should still be wounded. But...neither of us are."

"Perhaps that blood granted us a spot of immortality."

Her face fell at her brother's wide grin. "I would say that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, but then I would be lying." She turned her gaze back towards the house, then got to her feet. "We should at least ask where we are, though. There could be someone inside, after all. Unless…"

Petra's gaze drifted to a figure sitting on a small ledge near the stairs. It was a blonde woman, dressed in a bonnet and a plain dark dress, complete with a brown shawl. However, the woman had said nothing to them upon their arrival. Perhaps she was asleep, or simply ignoring them. Petra took her time walking over to the woman and stopped just in front of her feet, clearing her throat before speaking.

"Excuse me, miss?"

No response. In fact, after staring at the woman's face, Petra realized she wasn't blinking. She gently touched one of her hands and immediately snatched her own hand back upon contact.

"What is it?" Paul inquired. "Does she sleep with her eyes open? We've come across that before."

Petra shook her head. "No, it...her hand is porcelain. She's a doll."

He took a long look at the doll. "Very finely crafted."

"Yes, but what is a doll doing just sitting out in the open? It doesn't seem right." She turned towards the stairs, but stopped upon seeing small creatures on them. "And what are _those_?"

Paul approached the lowest group. "I...we've seen them before. After the ministrations. Did they crawl on your face like they did me?"

"They did."

"Well, they don't seem to be doing us any harm." He crouched down next to them, uneasiness creeping into his face. "In fact, I think they're offering us weapons. Have a look."

She moved away from the doll and sat in front of the small...people? She wasn't sure if she could call them that. Their mouths were strangely shaped, but they insisted on holding these weapons out for both her and her brother. There were three total: an axe with what looked to be cloth wrapped around the handle, a rust-colored saw of some sort with a similar aesthetic to the axe, and an unassuming cane.

"Which one speaks to you, Petra?"

She stared at her choices. "The axe, I believe. I've chopped enough wood to know how one works."

"Classic Petra," Paul teased. "I think a cane would suit me best. I've always wanted to strike down my enemies with one."

"Yes, but father would never allow you to get close enough to steal the neighbor's. You can only call it a learning experience so many times before you arouse suspicion."

"So you say," Paul retorted, rolling his eyes at her small giggle. The pair took their chosen weapons, much to the delight of the little ones. They clapped their hands and disappeared in a bundle of smoke, quiet squeaks sounding off in their wake. Petra spotted another group further up, this one holding guns.

"A blunderbuss?" She picked it up, inspecting it. "I haven't seen one of these since we were children. Remember that woman across the street?"

"What, how she chased her husband through town with one?"

"Yes!" She let out a small laugh. "Mother always said she should have done it ages ago. Poor woman was locked away, though."

"Did she ever leave?"

Petra thought for a moment. "Father paid her bail, actually. She was back home with her daughter within the week."

"Funny." Paul picked up the pistol, staring at it. "If only father were as kind to me as he was to her."

She frowned, choosing to look at the blunderbuss instead of her brother. Ministration erased some things, but Yharnam had not yet perfected the art of wiping the mind clean.

After a moment, Petra patted one of the tiny creatures' heads, indicating their decisions were made. They left with the same glee as the previous group. On the top step was a final group that held notebooks. She took one and thanked them, then opened to the front page. On the back of the front cover, a note was already scrawled.

 _This is a notebook received from the messengers. Leave messages with these loyal servants to share them with hunters in other worlds._

"Messengers?" She glanced down at the tiny creatures. "At least we know what to call them now. But...what about hunters in other worlds? Are we hunters?"

"You did say Yharnam has a nasty reputation," Paul replied. "Perhaps they hunt each other for sport."

"Ugh, don't say such things," she said, waving her hand in his general direction. "I'm going to check inside. Do what you wish."

Petra turned and finished ascending the stairs, finally walking into the house. The inside of it was cozier than she expected. Books upon books were stacked in haphazard piles, a thin layer of dust coating the covers. The carpet beneath her feet was a bit askew and had seen better days, but the design was comfortably simple and the fabric soft against the soles of her shoes. Plain cabinets and bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with more books and glasses of all shapes and sizes. A roaring fire crackled in the fireplace on the right side, and next to it was a workbench with weapons dangling above it and resting against the side of the table. Towards the back, an altar was in place, complete with small candles. Part of her wondered what it was for, while another refused to jump to conclusions. Perhaps everything she had heard about Yharnam were simple rumors meant to destroy the reputation of the town. It wasn't entirely fair to form an opinion before she saw it with her own eyes.

What she almost missed in her inspection, however, was a man sitting in a wheelchair next to a table set with cups and a silver kettle. His clothes were dark in color, much like the doll's, but simpler in design and with a plain hat to match. He looked older than herself and Paul put together, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he was still alive. Just as she was planning her approach, he spoke.

"Ah-hah," he began, voice softer than she was expecting. "You must be the new hunters."

She glanced towards where she came from, then back at the man. "I...suppose." She took a few steps forward. "I'm terribly sorry to impose, sir. I hope our presence is not a burden."

A small smile spread across his face. "There are worse burdens than two young hunters getting their bearings. Besides, some say silence can drive a man mad. Best to make a little noise, then, hm?" He shook his head gently. "Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now. I am…" He paused for a moment, as if lost in thought. Petra already had questions, but she let him continue. "...Gehrman, friend to you hunters. You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about this."

"Don't-" Petra let out a short laugh. "My apologies, but I believe it's a bit late for that. Neither I nor my brother know what a hunter is by your definition, or why we've taken on this role, let alone what we're supposed to do with it."

Gehrman shrugged slightly. "Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good. You know, it's just what hunters do!"

The sound of scurrying footsteps drew her attention towards the entrance behind her. Paul stood in the entryway, grinning like a child who had just had his first taste of sweets.

"Petra!" he exclaimed, waving his cane around. "It changes! Watch!" Paul flourished the weapon, and serrated blades took the place of the smooth exterior. With one swift motion, the blades snaked into the air and successfully whipped a nearby gravestone. "Much better than the neighbor's cane ever was, don't you think?" Before she could respond, Paul let out a short laugh and darted off, the sound of stone being smacked into submission growing fainter with every step.

"He's taken to it well," Gehrman remarked, amusement in his voice. "You'll get used to it."

Petra shook her head , but remained silent on the issue for now. "Before we leave, would you mind telling me a bit more about this place? It seems we'll be back here quite frequently."

He nodded slightly. "This was once a safe haven for hunters. A workshop where hunters used blood to enhance their weapons and flesh." Petra's nose wrinkled at the thought. "We don't have as many tools as we once did, but...both of you are welcome to use whatever you find." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Even the doll, should it please you…"

She raised one of her eyebrows. Gehrman's tone just then didn't quite sit well with her, but he was more receptive to their presence than she anticipated. She would take kindness wherever she could find it.

"Thank you," she replied. "I'm sure we'll make proper use of everything we find. Until we return, Gehrman."

Petra quietly took her leave, calmly descending the steps and catching sight of Paul twirling around the Dream with his brand new weapon. She suppressed her laughter just in time for him to stop and look at her.

"Ah, there you are!" He tapped his cane against the ground, hiding the tiny blades. "Test your weapon out, Petra! See if it does something different before we leave."

"Someone's eager to start," she commented. "The house is a workshop, by the way. A man by the name of Gehrman runs it, and he's given us permission to use the tools within, should we need them. I think we'll be using them eventually, given the way he was talking about hunters."

Paul nodded, then patted her shoulder a few times. "Well, we won't get much further until you try out your axe. Give it a go!"

"Alright, alright."

Petra stepped forward and drew her weapon. The blade was larger and sharper than the traditional wood-cutting axe she was used to, but it wasn't a burden to lift. She twirled it twice, admiring how dynamic it felt in her grip.

"Hmm, interesting," she mused, placing both hands on the grip. "I wonder what happens if-"

Upon pulling on the handle, the axe extended to around twice its original length with a loud snap of the metal. Petra nearly dropped it in surprise. Her grip tightened.

"I...I think I made the right choice," she muttered, glancing up at Paul's gleeful expression. "A bit unwieldy, if not used properly."

"Just the thing for you, then." He turned his attention back towards the main set of stairs. "But how do we return to Yharnam?"

Petra reset her axe, then scanned the area. A plain gravestone surrounded by messengers caught her eye.

"Perhaps those messengers could tell us," she reasoned, pointing at the gravestone in question.

"Petra, they hardly speak."

"They offered us weapons, did they not?"

Paul began to speak, then stopped. "...Fine. Attempt to communicate with them, if you must."

Petra walked over and knelt down in front of the messengers. "Don't hold such contempt. They've been nothing but kind."

"It's not contempt," he replied, kneeling next to her. "It's suspicion."

She scoffed. "You don't question a _thing_ about this hunt, but you're skeptical of these messengers?"

"Need I remind you they materialized out of the _ground?_ "

"Well," she said, shrugging, "if this is a dream, strange things happen in dreams. And if this hunt is as harrowing as it sounds, I'm willing to trust them. At least tolerate them for me."

"Yes, Petra," he sighed. It was the tone of defeat, the one he would usually use when he was attempting to make her feel bad over one small thing or another. In this instance, however, she would not change her stance. Any friend within or related to Yharnam was a friend to keep, even if they were abnormal.

She helt her hand out towards the beckoning messengers. Paul soon followed suit.

"Hello there," Petra began, her voice soft. "If you know a way to the clinic we awoke in, would you please guide us to it? We would be most appreciative of your assistance."

A small chorus of acceptance erupted from the messengers. She smiled at their enthusiasm. With a blink of her eyes, she found herself in the dark, blood-drenched clinic, only illuminated by the entrance and the tiny lamp she and Paul were now kneeling in front of. Petra rose to her feet, right hand reaching for her newly acquired axe.

The snarls of a wolf echoed from the front room.

It was going to be a long night, indeed.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Yep, I started another fic. I just finished Bloodborne quite recently, and the writing bug bit me with new story ideas. All Bloodborne ideas aside, Lions Walk With Wanderers will be continued (I'm in the process of writing another chapter, actually). I'm hoping to alternate updates between the two fics. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this particular foray into the mysteries of Yharnam!**


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